But not every speaker can be a Cicero or Caelius; every orator has to find the style that suits him, and dogged earnestness bordering on stolid defiance suited Milo. That morning, striding back and forth across the platform waving his arms, he seemed utterly blunt and candid, though I knew that his every word and gesture must have been carefully scripted and rehearsed again and again in Cicero's study.

"Fellow citizens of this beloved city! My friend Marcus Caelius is right – the madness that threatens us all will never be dispelled until the true circumstances of the death of Publius Clodius are made known. I don't know what you've heard about his death -1 can only imagine the ugly rumours that have been flying and the vicious aspersions that have been cast against me, and against my loyal servants, who bravely risked their lives to save my own.

"I'm not the sort to give pretty speeches. I will be brief and to the point. I can only tell you what I know.

"Nine days ago I left Rome and set out on a short journey down the Appian Way. Some of you may know that I hold a local office back in my home town, Lanuvium. Last year my fellow Lanuvines elected me their 'dictator' – a quaint way of saying chief magistrate. The office is not demanding, but occasionally I do have to go home to fulfil my obligations. This was such an occasion. I was called upon to nominate a priest to the local cult of Juno to preside over her festival next month. Juno's patronage of Lanuvium goes back to ancient times, before the Lanuvines were conquered by Rome. Her festival is the biggest day of the year in Lanuvium. Traditionally the Roman consuls attend. So I intend to return to Lanuvium next month, in that capacity -because there will be elections, and I will be elected consul!"

There was an outburst of cheering. Milo waited for it to subside.

"That morning I attended the regular meeting of the Senate, which broke up around the fourth hour of the day. Then I went home to change into travelling clothes. My wife was going with me. I would have preferred to start right away – the trip to Lanuvium is about eighteen miles, an easy day's journey if you get an early enough start. But with all her last-minute preparations- isn't that always the way with a wife? – we didn't leave Rome until well after midday. For her comfort, we rode in an open carriage bundled up in heavy cloaks. I should like to have travelled lighter, but my wife insisted on bringing her serving maids and boys along, so we had quite a long retinue.

"As you all know, the Appian Way heads south, straight as an arrow's flight and flat as a table. It's not until you reach the vicinity of Mount Alba that the road takes a few turns and you begin to ascend a bit. There are some grand homes in that area. Pompey has a villa in the woods not too far off the road. So did Publius Clodius. I wish I had remembered that, and been more cautious.

"Clodius must have known of my plan to go to Lanuvium that day-it was no secret. Perhaps he also knew that I would be accompanied by my wife and her servants, encumbered with a most unwarlike retinue. I'm told that Clodius had said outright and in public, only a few days previously, that he intended to kill me within a matter of days. 'We can't take the consulship from Milo, but we can take his life!' That's what he said. And this was the day he intended to make good on that threat, at that lonely spot on the Appian Way.

"I found out later that Clodius had left Rome – suddenly, quietly -the previous day. To be ready for me, to he in wait. He must have had scouts posted along the way, running ahead to let him know that I was coming. He chose a spot where the higher ground gave him the advantage. There I was, in a carriage, with all those women and servant boys, and there was Clodius with his troop of trained killers on horseback, hidden in the trees off the road, waiting and watching.

"The ambush occurred at about the eleventh hour of the day. The sun was already beginning to dip below the higher trees. And then the attack-confusion, screaming, blood. If I'd been a bird flying overhead, I might be able to tell you exactly what happened. But to me, sitting in that carriage with my wife, it all began in the blink of an eye. All at once there were men with swords standing in the road, blocking our way. My driver shouted at them. They rushed at him, pulled him from the carriage and stabbed him to death right before my eyes! I threw off my cloak. I found my sword and leaped from the vehicle. By Hercules, the screams of my wife still echo in my ears! The men who'd killed my driver came after me, but the fellows were cowards at heart A few swings of my sword and they fled like rabbits!" When Milo mimed the action with broad strokes through the air, it wasn't hard to imagine men fleeing from him.

"Then I realized that more men were attacking the retinue behind me. Amid the confusion I saw Clodius himself astride a hone. He turned and saw my beloved Fausta. He heard her screaming. He didn't see me – the carriage blocked his view. But he must have seen my rumpled cloak and thought that I was still in the carriage with Fausta, slumped over, dead – because he cried out to his companions, 'We've got him! Milo's dead! At last, he's dead!'

"Let me tell you, citizens, it's a strange thing, hearing a man proclaim your death in a gleeful voice. My bodyguards farther back in the retinue tried to fight their way to the carriage to help me, until they heard Clodius gloating that I was dead. Can you blame them for what happened next? They fought to defend themselves, yes, but they also fought because they were furious, because they thought that their master had been murdered and their mistress was in terrible danger. In the midst of the skirmish they came upon Clodius himself, and when the skirmish was over, Clodius was dead. I didn't order his death. It happened without my knowledge and outside my presence. Are my slaves to blame? No! They did exactly what every man here would have wanted his own slaves to do in the same situation. Am I not right?"

There was a roar of agreement from the crowd. I noticed that the banker was especially enthusiastic.

Milo seemed to draw strength from the crowd. He continued to shout above the roar. Veins bulged on neck and his face turned red. "If Clodius had succeeded with his ambush, it's I who would be dead today!" He poked his chest repeatedly with his forefinger, hard enough to bruise himself. "It would be Clodius that everyone would be pointing at. They'd all be accusing Clodius of murder, and saying Clodius was a threat to…" Milo restrained himself. It wouldn't do to say the Great One's name out loud. "But Clodius failed! Clodius lost! He paid the price for his wickedness. He was the cause of his own death, and I won't take responsibility for it!"

This brought even louder cheers. Milo stood on tiptoe, clenching his fists at his sides and shouting to be heard. He had remarkably powerful lungs. "I regret nothing! I apologize for nothing! And I refuse to mouth empty words of comfort to his widow or his children, and certainly not to that vile sister of his. His death was the greatest gift the gods could give to Rome. If I'd strangled him with my own hands, I wouldn't be ashamed to say so! If I'd killed him in cold blood, caught him by surprise and stabbed him in the back, still I would be proud of the act!"

Caelius hurriedly stepped forwards, his face rigid. I leaned towards Eco. "I think Milo has gone beyond his script."

Caelius raised his left hand for silence. With his right hand he reached for Milo's shoulder. When Milo tried to shrug him off, Caelius tightened his grip until I saw Milo wince and shoot him an angry glance.

The crowd ignored the signal for silence. They began to chant as if they were at an election rally. Several different chants started up at once. The result was deafening. The fuller joined in with those reciting an old piece of doggerel about Clodius and his sister: